High Maintenance
by Autumn Rayne
Summary: Good ol' fashioned Goren saves the day fic.  Rated M for future chapters.  First loci fic, please be kind.
1. Nightmares

**Law and Order: Criminal Intent**

**High Maintenance**

**Chapter One**

**Nightmares**

Alexandra Eames stood in front of the bathroom mirror quietly studying her reflection. Her skin looked slightly paler than normal and dark circles started to settle under her eyes. She woke ten minutes earlier, screaming from a nightmare she could not remember. It was the fourth one in as many nights, though the first to cause such a reaction. Sighing, Alex turned on the faucet and splashed cold water over her face. She leaned over, bracing her arms on either side of the sink as the water dripped from her cheeks and forehead. Her mind still clouded with fear and fog.

Slipping the strap of her tank top over her shoulder, Alex carefully fingered the red mark under her collarbone. Three similar marks had appeared over the last three days: one on her left arm just above her elbow, one above her left knee and the other on her right side. She could not explain the origin of the marks, remembering only the sharp pain that accompanied each after waking from her nightmares.

Alex mentally chastised herself for allowing the nightmares to affect her so strongly. Being a detective for New York's Major Case Squad, she had experienced far worse things than a trivial bad dream. Her latest case involved the gruesome murder of Mr. and Mrs. Waterton and their three small children. As a good detective, Alex carried the ability to separate herself from a good portion of the all-consuming emotions sired by such a case. This trait was important in maintaining a clear and focused mind throughout an investigation. Surely, she could retain this through her nightmares.

Alex looked to her side where her cell phone laid on the bathroom counter. Seeing the time on the small display, she smirked and grabbed the phone.

"Any second now," she chided. As if on cue, the phone buzzed in her hands. "Eames."

_"It's eight-thirty. Do you know where my partner is?"_ Alex could hear the smile in the chipper voice on the other end of the line.

"Can it, Goren." She was in no mood for chipper.

_"Good morning to you, too,"_ Goren laughed. _"Where are you?"_

"Home. I just woke up." Alex opened the closet and grabbed towel.

_"Are you feeling all right?"_

"Yeah. I forgot to set my alarm." Truth told she slept through the alarm, drowning in the nightmare. "I'll be there in about an hour."

_"An hour? You live forty minutes away. Don't you need more time to get ready?"_

"I'm a low maintenance gal, Bobby." Alex hung the towel over the shower curtain rod and returned to the mirror. "Anyway, I'll be in soon. And I'll bring coffee."

"_Good. I've been waiting since seven o'clock for some good caffeine. You know how the coffee here can be…well…"_

"Yeah." Alex smiled and ended the call. Her smile quickly faded as she again stared at her reflection. The mark by her collarbone, still painful, was now starting to burn. Turning on the shower, Alex discarded her clothing and started what already felt like a long day.

**0-0-0-0**

Detective Robert Goren tapped his pen on the desk as he reviewed the latest case's paperwork. It always bothered him to have the hard work and emotion of a case trivialized in black and white. He would ensure the _Is_ were dotted and the _Ts_ were crossed. Yet in the end, no one would know the whole story. No one would know of the victim's last moment of life or of the family's sadness and healing. No one would know of the long, twisted and perverse line that led the detectives from point a to point b.

Goren signed his name with a sigh and neatly assembled the papers. He positioned a paper clip over the top left corner and slipped the stack into a manila folder. The folder would go to his captain for review and then join hundreds of other manila folders in a congested system of filing cabinets.

Looking across his desk, Goren stared at his partner's empty chair. Early in their partnership, Eames told him that being tired and somewhat distracted was normal. She was, after all, female and entitled to a few days of such. Understanding, Goren learned to deal with those days as they arrived.

However, Eames' behavior over the previous days was not her norm. He could tell from the pallor of her skin and by her slightly blood shot eyes that she was not sleeping well, if at all. Eames had become increasingly detached from the job in the last two days of closing their case. The talks they commonly shared to lead them to the light bulb moment of detective work were non-existent. Her dry sense of humor waned as well.

A straight-faced, non-argumentative Alexandra Eames was _not_ his Alexandra Eames.

Goren's curiosity was peeked further with Eames' tardiness. She never missed a day of work, save the time she was on maternity leave. Even through the worst of the cold and flu season, the horrible snow-laden Northeastern winters and a handful of hangovers to which she would not admit, Eames was never late.

Rising from his chair, Goren grabbed the manila folder and proceeded to the captain's office. Though the door was open, Goren rapped lightly on the frame waiting for permission to enter.

"Come in, Detective. What can I do for you?" Captain Ross folded his hands and leaned his elbows on the desk.

"I have the Waterton report for you." Goren approached the desk and handed the folder to Ross. "It needs Eames' signature, but it's finished otherwise." Ross skimmed over the report as he settled it on the desk.

"Speaking of Eames, where the hell is your partner?" Ross' gaze shifted to meet the detective's eyes. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Goren gathered that Eames had not called to inform the captain of her hold-up.

"She's on her—" Goren stopped short as he heard the chirp of his cell phone. "Excuse me." He reached into his pocket and removed the phone, looking to Ross as he pointed to the phone's display. "It's Eames." Ross nodded for Goren to answer the call.

"Bobby, it's me. Could you…uh, could you pick me up?" Goren noted the agitation in Eames' voice and the rustling in the background.

"I can. It's going to cost you a donut though."

"That's all it takes? You are going to pick me up more often. Imagine the money I could save not having to fill my gas tank."

"Enough to buy me two donuts." Goren paused. "Is something wrong with your car?"

"Well, if not being able to find my car keys counts, then, yes, something is wrong with my car."

"Don't you have a spare set?"

"Yep. That would be the set you have."

"Oh." Goren reached into his pocket and grabbed his key ring. Fingering through the collection, he found Eames' spare car and apartment keys. "Okay. I'll be there in a…" Turning his back to Ross, Goren spoke softly. "Eames, are you sure everything is all right?"

"Yes, Bobby." Goren heard Eames take and release a deep breath. "I'm sure I just misplaced my keys. I can look for them after work tonight."

"All right." Goren closed the phone. He watched as the display flashed 'call ended' then returned to bare the time.

"Is everything all right, Detective?"

"I think so. Eames needs a ride," Goren answered. He ran a hand through his hair as he turned back to Ross. "I'm not sure. Captain, Eames has been…well…She hasn't been herself lately."

"I've noticed," Ross replied nodding slowly. "Do you know what's going on?"

"No. I don't believe she's been sleeping well and she has been…indifferent to-to just about everything the last few days. I would like to convince her to take a few days off. She has some time coming," Goren offered.

"I can't force it, you know that. Unless she becomes a threat to a case or endangers her life or that of another officer…" Captain Ross studied his detective carefully. "If you can get her to agree, I'll approve her time off."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Now, get out of here and pick up your partner." Goren nodded as Ross waved him towards the door. "Oh, and Goren?"

"Yes, Sir?" he asked turning back.

"Tell her she owes me a donut, too."


	2. Donuts

**a/n I see my disclaimer didn't make it to my first chapter...Let me interject: have not, do not and will never own. Thank you for the reviews, they were greatly appreciated!**

**Law and Order: Criminal Intent**

**High Maintenance**

**Chapter Two**

**Donuts**

Goren parked his SUV alongside the curb in front of Eames' apartment. He removed the key from the ignition and stared at the front of the building. The drive seemed shorter than normal to Goren, whose mind had been searching for the right way to approach Eames about taking some time off. He did not yet have a solid argument and every scenario he considered ended with her fist making contact with his face.

Exiting the vehicle, Goren started up the short sidewalk. As he reached the concrete steps, his attention focused on the bushes to the right of the wrought iron railing. Newly planted flowers lined the front of the knee-high bushes. Goren thought the area looked too disheveled to have been placed by a knowing hand. He followed his gaze, carefully stepping through the grass. The roots of one of the dark red flowers were sparsely covered in dirt. The other two, simply dropped in their respective hole. He noticed several small piles of dirt that followed out of place divots. The shallow holes wound around the bushes, stopping under the front window.

"Hey." Startled, Goren looked up to see Eames standing in the doorway.

"Hi," he answered, a slight tinge of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.

"Do you want to come in or would you rather lurk in the bushes a little while longer?"

"I would, uh, I would like to come in." Goren returned to the steps taking the two in one stride as he followed Eames inside. "Here are your keys," he said digging into his pocket.

"Thank you." Eames reached for his outstretched hand. "I'm sorry to make you drive all this way just to drop off my keys."

"It's not a problem." He watched Eames as she reached for her trench coat. Physically, she appeared to be in worse shape than the day before. His newest concern unfolded as he watched her struggle to put on her coat. The look of concentration on her face far exceeded what was necessary for the task of putting her arms into the coat sleeves. "Do you want to ride with me? I'll let you drive," Goren smiled.

"No, thank you, though. I have some errands to run after work." Eames tightened the belt of her coat then dropped her head and groaned.

"What's wrong?" Goren asked moving to her side.

"I forgot my holster. I'll be right back." After Eames left the room, Goren moved to the front window and pulled back the sheer white curtain. From this angle, he could not see much of the newly planted flowers. He tried to stand on his toes, resting his fingers on the window ledge for balance.

"What the hell?" Goren looked down at the tip of his index finger, now covered in damp dirt. "Hmm." He rubbed his thumb and finger together as he slid the window to the left. A small patch of dirt trailed over the window track and over the outside sill.

"All right, I think I'm…Bobby, if you like those flowers so much, dig them up and take them home." Goren looked at Eames, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry, Eames. I was just…Your window was unlocked," he said gently tapping the latch.

"Okay. So lock it." Eames joined Goren's side and closed the window, flipping the latch with a roll of her eyes. "Case closed."

"When were those flowers planted?"

"Oh, seriously, Bobby."

"Are you missing anything besides your-your keys?"

"Can we just go?" she hissed.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry." Goren dropped his head and nodded. "I'm sorry." Eames grabbed her purse. "It's just that you have dirt all over the track of the window and on the…"

"Bobby." Eames set her purse on the end table and ran a frustrated hand through her hair. She watched with growing impatience as her partner slowly slid his fingers over the window frame. His body maneuvered into awkward angles as he tried to see the places he touched. Eames knew Goren too well. She could follow his abstract process of thought. Without allowing him the chance to say the words, she countered his theory. "I think I would know if someone had broken in through the front window," she stated crossing her arms in front of her.

"Not necessarily, Eames." Goren passed his hands over the window once more then moved towards her. "The screen," he started, tilting his head to one side. "It can be easily popped off. And if the window was left unlocked," he continued, gesturing towards the window, "someone would have no trouble getting in." Eames closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She stared at Goren for a long moment before speaking. "Do you want to check to the other windows, too?" she asked softly.

"Can I?" Goren's eyes brightened with his partner's growing understanding. He took a step closer to Eames expecting to follow her lead. Putting her hand up to his chest, she stopped his movement and pushed him backwards.

"Get out of my apartment. Now." Goren opened his mouth to argue. "Out, Bobby," Eames said, cutting off his retort. Goren sighed as she again shoved him. He moved to the door, holding it open for Eames as she gathered her purse from the end table.

"You were mocking me," he stated plainly. Eames stopped in the doorway looking up at her partner.

"Yes, I was." Brushing past Goren, she headed to her vehicle.

"Eames?" he called as he closed the door behind him. "Captain Ross wants donuts for the entire department. "

**0-0-0-0**

"Captain? I'm told you have the Waterton report."

"Yes, I do. Close the door, Eames. Have a seat." Doing as he ordered, Eames settled in a chair across from Ross and sighed inwardly. He handed her the folder and a pen, watching her carefully. "Aren't you going to read the report before finishing your signature, Detective?"

"Uh, Goren said it was complete." Eames dared a quick glance at Ross and then finished signing. She handed the folder to her captain and stood hoping to make a quick exit.

"Not so fast, Detective Eames," Ross said pointing to the chair. "You were late this morning."

"Yes, Sir," she said taking a seat again.

"Why?"

"I overslept," she answered not meeting his eyes.

"You know, Detective, things have not been quite right with you lately. I know you have some time coming. Since the Waterton case is finished and nothing is on your plate at the moment…" Eames stiffened and looked up.

"Is that an order, Captain?" she challenged. Ross caught her eyes with an intense gaze before answering.

"Not yet. Keep the suggestion close in mind, Detective Eames."

"Yes, Sir." Eames left the office, quietly closing the door behind her.

"Is everything all right?" Goren appeared at her side, offering a cup of coffee.

"Yeah," she answered taking hold of the mug. "Thank you. I'm sorry that I forgot about the coffee I promised you earlier."

"Oh, that's all right. I take some solace in the fact that you have to drink this crap, too." Goren smiled and took a seat at his desk and signed into his e-mail. "I am pretty disheartened about the lack of donuts, though."

"I'll take you to Krispy Kreme later," she said sitting at her own desk. She opened the drawer and pulled out a handful of folders.

"Hmm. Well, this is interesting." Eames looked up from her folder and raised an eyebrow. She watched as Goren continued to stare at the computer screen, lips moving as he read to himself. After a few moments, Eames tossed her pen at Goren to get his attention.

"Care to share?" she prodded.

"Oh. Cameron Dickson was released on parole last week Tuesday."

"Who's Cameron Dickson?"

"He was one of the five bosses we busted from the E Street drug ring."

"Back when you were working in Narcotics?" she asked, interest peeked.

"Yeah. Dickson was the last one arrested. It took us almost four years to bring it down."

She nodded, now recalling a few details. "He was the only one to be brought in alive, wasn't he?"

"Grant and Stevens died in a shoot-out three months into the investigation. About a year later, Anderson committed suicide as we tried to arrest him." Goren leaned his elbows on his desk. "Two years later, Tiny was fatally shot as he was getting into the squad car."

"Tiny?"

"Well, there's one in every group," Goren said smiling briefly. "When Dickson was brought in, he spilled everything. Within the first week, we knew the names of E Street's runners and their main clients. We raided and cleaned up all seven labs. It was a very successful, thorough bust."

"He offered all this information to you?"

"We barely had him in the interrogation room before he started talking." Goren stared at the computer screen again.

"Strange."

"Anyway," he started absently, "he's out on parole. Twelve years in prison for drug trafficking then paroled on the DA's request."

"The DA?"

"Apparently Dickson has been giving police information to bust several other rings."

"You scratch my back…" Eames said shaking her head.

"Yeah." Goren closed the e-mail. He glanced at his watch then looked at Eames. "It's almost noon. Hungry?"


	3. Storm Clouds

**a/n** Thank you, again, for the reviews. I've been pondering the series finale the last two weeks and it has taken my muse away from this story. Know what I'm thinking? Next summer...Loci the movie...Well, it was worth a shot:) Anyway, thank you for waiting. I hope this is good. This chapter contains spoilers for season three...

**Law and Order: Criminal Intent**

**High Maintenance**

**Chapter Three**

**Storm Clouds**

Eames sat quietly at the picnic table, eyes closed. She let the warmth of the sun, a good companion to the cool breeze that wisped around her, soak through her navy blue trench coat. Folding her arms on the table, Eames cradled her head in the crook of her elbow. Goren would be a few minutes before he arrived with their food, and she hoped to spend those minutes regaining some control of her tired muscles. As she dressed earlier that morning, she could tell that her movements were not quite in sync. She could feel herself slipping a bit mentally, as well.

"Are you sure this is all you want to eat?" Goren asked taking a seat across from her. Eames opened her eyes and peeked over her arm as he set a small salad and a large coffee in front of her.

"Yeah. I haven't been very hungry lately. This is plenty." Eames lifted her head and raised an amused eyebrow as Goren removed the wrapper from the first of two large burgers.

"What? I'm a growing boy," he said smiling.

"I guess." Eames poked at her salad. She wasn't in the mood to eat. What she really wanted was the coffee – a little more caffeine to get her moving. However, too much coffee on an empty stomach was never a good thing and she resigned to putting a chunk of lettuce in her mouth.

"So you haven't been sleeping." Goren took a drink of his soda as Eames' eyes drifted from her salad to him.

"What?" Goren motioned to her as he swallowed.

"You're not…you're not sleeping."

"Uh, why would you say that?" Goren tipped his head to one side, eyebrow raised, hands now clasped on the table. Eames frowned as he studied her.

"I'm not one of your suspects, Bobby."

"Of course you're not," he agreed, head tilting in the opposite direction.

"You don't need to analyze me."

"I do not need to analyze you."

"Or my sleeping habits."

"Or problems."

"Or prob-" Eames pointed her fork at Goren. "Don't try to trick me."

"I'm not," he said, innocently holding up his hands.

"I'm fine," she said quietly.

"But you're not sleeping." Eames gave an annoyed sigh and thrust her fork into her salad.

"It's a minor bout of insomnia, Bobby. A few days of this and I'll be back to normal."

"All right," Goren nodded, believing what she was saying. "What's wrong with your shoulder?"

"My shoulder?" Eames crinkled her brow as she subconsciously raised her hand to her right shoulder.

"You've been rubbing your shoulder all day."

"Oh." Eames fingers gently ran over the fabric of her coat and drifted to her collar bone, remembering the mark she discovered after waking. "Um, nothing. I don't know why I've been doing that." She laughed nervously and waved a dismissive hand. Goren watched as Eames returned to picking through her salad. Her hair now hung in front of her face in, what Goren believed, a blatant attempt to hide from him.

"Eames? You have same vaca—" He was interrupted by the ring of Eames' cell phone. She removed it from its holder, glancing at the caller ID.

"It's Ross. Eames," she said holding the phone to her ear. She met Goren's eyes as she listened to the captain. "Okay. We're about half an hour out." She closed the phone and stood. "We have a case. Double homicide in Hoboken."

**0-0-0-0**

Eames stepped out of the SUV, pulling her coat tightly around her. She was surprised how quickly the wind picked up in the last half an hour. She caught a few wild strands of hair and tucked them behind her ear as she met Goren on the passenger side of the vehicle.

"Looks like rain," he commented. Eames nodded, noting the ominous, green tinge taken on by their surroundings. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah." As the two started up the sidewalk Eames looked over the farm house. The house's white color looked too vibrant in front of the approaching storm clouds. The flashing red and blue lights of two local police vehicles, along with the tint of the sky, gave everything a surreal disguise. The grass looked too green, and the small section of white picket fence that sat in the yard for decoration popped out of its environment. The two windows on the second story, separated by a tall brick chimney, gave the appearance of large black eyes staring down at them.

"I feel like we're in an Amityville movie," Goren laughed. Eames nodded in response to hearing Goren's voice, but she was not listening to the words he spoke. She was completely transfixed by the dwelling. Goren stepped in front of her blocking her view. She blinked and looked up at him. "You stopped walking."

"I've been here…" she whispered.

"I'm sorry? I couldn't hear you." Goren reached out, gently wrapping his fingers around her wrist, and removed her hand from her shoulder. She looked down as he moved her arm to her side.

"I've been…" Eames' voice was still too quiet for Goren to hear. He released her wrist with a brush of his fingers. Tilting his head, he leaned slightly to one side and hooked a finger under her chin, forcing her eyes back to his.

"Are you all right?" He waited as her eyes focused and realization of his closeness to her dawned. She took a deep breath and shook the cobwebs from her head.

"I'm fine."

"Okay," he said slowly. "Let's go." Goren stepped to the side and followed Eames to the rickety front porch. A heavier-set gentleman leaning on the front door stood to attention and met the detectives at the top of the porch steps.

"I'm Sargent Millward," he said extending his hand. "You must be the detectives from New York."

"Eames," she answered taking his hand. "This is Detective Goren." Millward reached for Goren's hand.

"Sargent." Goren opened his binder. "Why did you call Major Case? This is…a little out of our jurisdiction." Millward sighed, sadness creeping across his features.

"When the reverend and his family moved here seven years ago, he asked me to contact you, Detective Goren, if anything were to happen to him or his wife. He didn't offer any details, just said that you would understand." Goren closed his binder and nodded.

"What can you tell us about the case?" Eames asked.

"Not much. I haven't sent my guys in yet." Goren and Eames exchanged a confused look. "I thought it best to keep everyone out until you arrived." He looked between the detectives. "Whatever you need from us, you have it."

"Thank you, Sargent." Millward moved towards the door, stopping when his hand reached the door pull.

"I'll be out here when you're ready." The screen door opened with an eerie squeal. Goren entered first, assaulted by the stench of stale blood. His eyes settled on two bodies lying on their backs in a large pool of blood that covered most of the living room floor. He heard Eames draw a sharp breath.

"Oh my…" She turned to the door, needing a minute to collect herself. Goren lightly touched her back and Eames nodded in response to his silent question.

"There's too much blood to be solely from our victims." Goren sniffed the air. "I'd say cow's blood. Pig's maybe."

"I don't want to know how you know that." Eames turned back to Goren, following as he walked the blood's perimeter. "We're going to need a CSI team here before we go too far. Who knows what kind of prints are in this." She stepped around Goren, kneeling to look at the victims' faces.

"I agree." The two bodies, one male, one female, were posed hands folded across their stomachs, as they would be during their funerals. "They were staged." He looked over their blood soaked clothing. "This display…This was all done after they were murdered."

"Throats were slit. Wounds look pretty shallow," Eames said rising. "Maybe they were drugged or knocked unconscious before they were killed." She turned to Goren and frowned noticing something over his shoulder. She touched his arm and pointed. "Look." He twisted, following her motion. Above the doorway several dozen knives, plunged into the drywall, spelled out Goren's name. Eames felt his muscles stiffen under her hand. "Who are the victims, Bobby?"

"Reverend Hale and his wife," Goren said quietly. "Bishop and I worked a case, uh, about eight years ago involving their nephew." Goren looked at the bodies. "He had a pretty off the wall philosophy on life and… enlightenment. He used that to convince three young girls to kill three boys from their school."

"Connie Smith," Eames nodded. "I remember." Goren raised an eyebrow in surprise. "What? Just because I was pregnant and on desk duty doesn't mean I didn't pay attention." Goren smiled.

"This…message," he said, pointing to the knives above the doorway. "Connie told me there were more…more girls like the ones that murdered the boys." He smirked as he faced Eames again. "He said they would crawl out of the pit and come at me with knives because that's what I deserved."

**0-0-0-0**

The sky had darkened considerably since the detectives arrived at the farmhouse. With the dropping temperature, Eames could now feel the rain in the air. She stood patiently by Goren's side as he questioned the older woman who lived next door to the Hales. Eames guessed the woman to be in her late seventies, but the dim light from the sconces on the front porch accentuated every wrinkle on the woman's face, aging her significantly.

"Yes, I was the one that called Sargent Millward." The older woman wrung her hands nervously as she talked to the detectives. "Mrs. Hale didn't show up for our knitting club yesterday morning. I called the house several times, came over once. When I got no answer here, I immediately went home and called the police."

"Mrs. Letner, do you know of anyone who may have had issues with the Hales?"

"Oh, goodness, no. When the reverend came to our parish, well, it was like a breath of fresh air. He was so animated during service. He brought us all back to a better relationship with God. And Mrs. Hale, she was involved in so many charity groups. She baked and cooked for the less fortunate families…Even spent time with us old people, knitting." Mrs. Letner looked to the ground.

"Did you ever meet their nephew, Connie?" Goren asked lightly.

"Oh, Connie." Mrs. Letner's eyes brightened at the mention of the young man's name. "Connie was certainly a blessing from Heaven." Goren looked at Eames.

"How so, Mrs. Letner?" she asked.

"Connie is such a nice man. He stopped by every week on Tuesday and helped me clean the house. My back isn't quite what it used to be," she joked. "He would write up a grocery list and go shopping for me, too. I told him there was no need to waste his time on me when he had people his own age to hang around, but he insisted. Never asked for anything in return."

"Did the Hales have as good of a relationship with Connie?"

"No, unfortunately. They never hurt him or anything like that. Connie said they didn't really pay too much attention to him. I suppose it's not all that easy to take care of someone else's child, nephew or not."

"I suppose you're right," Goren nodded. "Do you know where Connie is?"

"He's in Colorado, in school. He calls once a month to tell me how his studies are going."

"Have you contacted him about his aunt and uncle's deaths?" Eames asked.

"Not yet. I was hoping to have something solid to tell him about how it happened." Mrs. Letner looked hopefully to Goren.

"I'm sorry we don't have details to share. If you could call Connie…It would be best for him to come home as soon as possible."

"Of course." Mrs. Letner wrapped her housecoat tightly around her body and started towards her house.

"Colorado, huh? That's quite a distance to orchestrate a murder," Eames remarked.

"Yeah. But if Connie made…"

"Friends like he did eight years ago," Eames finished.

"Exactly."


	4. Cow, Maybe Pig

**Law and Order: Criminal Intent**

**High Maintenance**

**Chapter 4**

**Cow, Maybe Pig**

"Where's Goren?" Ross asked as he entered the conference room.

"He's on the phone with Mrs. Letner." Eames cleared a handful of papers and photographs from the table as Ross took a seat next to her.

"Thank you," he said depositing his folders in the empty space. Ross surveyed the display of photos in front of Eames, scrunching his face as each depicted more of the bloody crime scene. "Did forensics come back with any prints?"

"No." Eames shook her head. "So far the only prints they've come across belong to the Hales and their nephew." Ross nodded and opened one of his folders.

"The nephew," he said tapping the papers. "He's thought to be responsible for tricking three young girls into killing three of their male classmates and poisoning people during a church meeting." Eames nodded. "Why weren't you on this case with Goren?" Ross asked.

"I was on desk duty, pregnant with _my_ nephew."

"Right, sorry." Ross cleared his throat. Goren entered the conference room, gently closing the door behind him.

"Connie should be in town Thursday afternoon. Mrs. Letner is going to bring him here after she picks him up from the airport." Goren gathered some of the photos in front of Eames, quietly noting she was rubbing her shoulder again, and started tacking them to the cork board on the wall. Ross stood and moved to Goren's side.

"What do we have for time and cause of death?"

"Rodgers places a preliminary time of death between Sunday afternoon and Monday evening," Eames answered. "Their throats were slit, but not deeply enough for a solid cause of death."

"Autopsy results will be ready tomorrow," Goren added. "Tox screens on Thursday."

"What do you make of all of the blood?" Ross looked to Eames. She sat back in her chair, folded her arms in front of her and offered Goren a smart-ass smile.

"Goren thinks it's cow. Maybe pig."

"I don't want to know how you know that," Ross said turning back to Goren. Goren smiled slightly and titled his head to the side as he regarded Eames.

"I think it's all for, uh, for show," Goren explained. "You know, shock factor. Someone is trying to get our attention and certainly went over the top to do so."

"And you believe this 'someone' to be Connie."

"Yes, Sir."

"And your love note?" Ross continued, pointing to the picture of Goren's name.

"A calling card of sorts. Connie said they'd come at me with knives," he said absently. "Sargent Millward said he was told by Reverend Hale to contact me if anything happened to him or his wife." Goren paused for a moment, switching the positions of two pictures on the cork board. "I think they were afraid of Connie, afraid that he would try to hurt them, too. The Hales wanted to make sure someone who knew about their…past…would be involved."

"Explain this philosophy of Connie's to me." Ross reclaimed his chair, leaning his elbows on the table as he listened.

"_Siddhartha_," Goren simply said. "In the book, Siddhartha looked for enlightenment in all aspects of life. He tried several ways of life, several jobs, learned about several cultures, but he was never satisfied in his search. In the end, he put together pieces of each life to become enlightened and one with Buddha. Connie is much like Siddhartha, but his…path to enlightenment is…is vicarious. He preyed on the girls, on their need for attention and affection, to experience life. Well, the negative aspects of it anyway."

"According to the people we talked to, Connie was quite the gentleman. He helped several elderly people in the area with household and yard chores. He even tutored some of the younger kids from his uncle's church."

"It was the same with the people Bishop and I interviewed eight years ago. He was a well-respected young man. Laura Koehler, one of the victims from the church poisonings, thought of him like a son."

"So he gives and receives the love and affection, and sits back to watch others play out his malevolence." Ross sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Why didn't the charges against Connie hold up in court?"

"The girls refused to testify against him," Goren replied. "They stayed with their story that they acted on their own with no encouragement from Connie. The jury saw their connection as circumstantial."

"Connie's been going to school in Colorado for what? Almost four years?" Goren and Eames both nodded. "You have no other suspects?"

"We have no other suspects," Eames reaffirmed. "No one had the smallest of a bad word to say about the Hales. And without prints to follow…"

"We need to talk to Connie, find out who he's made friends with. See if he's been in contact with any of the girls since the trial."

"All right." Ross nodded and stood. "It's late. Go home. Start fresh in the morning. I understand your reasoning here, but you're going to need seriously hard evidence to connect Connie to these murders. If it didn't stick the first time, I can guarantee with him being eighteen hundred miles away, it won't stick this time either." Ross collected his folders and left the room.

"He's right, Bobby. We're going to have a hard time pinning this on Connie."

"I know." Goren stared at the picture of the Hales lying on the floor. "There's someone else in play here, Eames, someone who has no relationship with the Hales. Not like the first time." Eames nodded her agreement.

"Three rejected teenage hearts…Makes for good motive. We're looking for someone outside the parish. Maybe a friend from Colorado?"

"Maybe." The two detectives cleaned up their folders and notes, leaving the pictures to hold the room for the next day's work. Goren tucked his stack under his arm and watched Eames pack up.

"Quit staring at me," she uttered not looking at him. Goren snickered quietly.

_"Goren thinks it's cow. Maybe pig,"_ he mocked. Eames looked up, smart-ass smile gracing her face once again.

"What? Who the hell knows something like that by the way it smells? Gross." She laughed and left the room. Goren followed, taking a seat at his desk as Eames gathered her purse and coat. "You're sticking around?"

"For a few minutes."

"Okay. See you tomorrow." He waved his good-bye and kept an eye on Eames until she was out of view. Goren was relieved to see she had regained some of her sense of humor. Despite the weariness he saw in her movements, she seemed to be in better spirits. He would stick with her explanation of a 'minor bout of insomnia'.

For now.

What occupied Goren's mind at present was the unconscious attention Eames paid to her shoulder. She reached for it a few times before lunch, denying any meaning behind it, but after their arrival at the farm house, the movement became more frequent. He replayed the nearly picture-perfect memory of the scene on the sidewalk, trying to recall what she said to him.

_"I've…"_ But he couldn't hear the words. Her mouth barely moved with her mumbling, Goren couldn't hope to read her lips. There was something, some emotion that flashed across Eames' face, too quickly for him to classify. She seemed so far away, off in a world about which he knew nothing, when he wrapped his fingers around her small wrist and lead her hand to her side.

Goren shook his head and pushed the thought to the back of his mind. He would have plenty of time in the morning during their return trip to Hoboken to ask Eames about her shoulder. Tonight, he needed to prepare for the second round of interviews. Every new detail needed to be noted just as carefully as the old if he and Eames were going to collar Connie Smith for the Hales' murders. Tonight, he needed to go home and sleep.

He only hoped Eames could do the same.

**0-0-0-0**

Alex dumped her purse and coat on the couch and made her way to the kitchen. She grabbed the carafe from the coffee maker and poured the remains of the morning's coffee down the sink. Closing her eyes, Alex took a deep breath before filling the pot with water and replacing it in the coffee maker. She reached up, opened the cupboard and pulled out a can of coffee grounds.

"Shit," Alex said shaking the can. The few grounds that whirled in the bottom of the can were not enough to make a cup of coffee, let alone a full pot. She dropped her head remembering the errands she was supposed to run after work. "Looks like errands tomorrow," she spat tossing the can in the garbage.

Making her way down the hallway to her bedroom, Alex thought over her day. Even with a small renewal of energy late in the afternoon, she struggled to keep details from their interviews straight. People from the neighborhood and the parish gathered in the street in front of the Hales' house, eager to speak with the detectives and offer what information they could about their fallen friends. It was a welcomed change to have people voluntarily talking, but with so many well-intended souls, it was overwhelming.

Shuffling through the top dresser drawer, Alex pulled out an old pair of flannel pajama pants and an NYPD t-shirt. She sat heavily on the bed, taking her time in changing since her body didn't want to cooperate. She ran a hand through her hair and scowled as she noticed that the time on the alarm clock read a little after midnight.

"No nightmares tonight," she declared firmly, setting the alarm for seven. Plunking her weary body in the unmade bed, Alex pulled the covers tightly around her body. She felt familiar uneasiness hit her chest. "No nightmares…" she repeated, eyes fluttering closed.

_ bitch!_

_ she felt the sharp sting of his hand across her face_

_ he lifted her hands above her head_

_ wrapping something painfully tight around her wrists_

_ she tried to make out her dimly lit surroundings_

_ but the fog in her head wouldn't allow her see clearly_

_ she was lost_

_ two voices_

_ she heard two voices_

_ one very familiar_

_ arguing_

_ no!_

_ don't!_

_ the familiar voice pleaded_

_ the other came into view_

_ she watched in slow horror_

_ as he pointed his gun at her head_

Alex's eyes snapped open and she immediately thrashed her arms and legs trying to free herself from the constraints of her blankets. Sitting up, she pulled her legs close to her body, resting her head on her knees.

"Oh, God," she whispered between labored breaths. Feeling the fear swarming around her, Alex wrapped her arms protectively around her head. Concentrating on her breathing, she calmed her trembling body and dared a look around. Stepping out of the haze of the nightmare, she realized she was in her bedroom.

"Okay…okay." Alex stretched her legs in front of her and ran her hands over her eyes. The nightmare was starting to fade. She tried to hold on to the images, but they evaporated before she could reach them. Control, she needed control. Lying down, she grabbed the blankets and willed herself to get comfortable, 'it was only a dream' repeating in her head. As the wave of anxiety began to dispel, the alarm sounded an angry, high-pitched buzz.

"Damn it!" Alex screamed, startling out of bed. She reached for the alarm clock, pulled the cord from the outlet and pitched it across the room.


	5. Hell Hath No Fury

**a/n** Thank you for the continued reviews. This chapter is a little weird. Eames is kind of out of character towards the end. But, I figured with the nightmares and no sleep that she deserves to be...I would be...And I guess this gives Goren the right to be ooc, as well...Such as taking some liberties in regards to personal space, which will probably continue in the next chapter, too.

**Law and Order: Criminal Intent**

**High Maintenance**

**Chapter 5**

**Hell Hath No Fury**

Captain Ross closed his office door and looked over the flurry of officers and detectives in the squad room preparing for their respective days. He preferred a quieter start to his mornings, but would not complain. His crew was the best to be had. He walked through the crowd to the conference room, spotting one of his two top detectives.

"Is you partner making a habit of coming to work late?" he asked, appearing in the doorway.

"Uh, no, Sir," Goren answered with a smile. "She's using the, uh, the restroom." He looked up from his binder as Ross took a seat across from him.

"How's she been holding up?"

"She's…She's better," Goren said slowly. Ross nodded and laced his fingers together as he leaned on the table.

"But…" Ross prompted. Goren eyed his captain, not responding. "Look, Detective Goren, I saw the condition she was in yesterday. She looks like…" He held his hand out, not wanting to say the words.

"I know," Goren nodded. "She had a rough time getting through the interviews yesterday. She was…distracted." He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "I don't think she needs to be taken off the case though." Goren motioned to Ross. "If…If that's what you're asking."

"I share your concern," Ross said carefully. "Just gaging state of mind."

"Well, you have my answer."

"What about her time off?"

"I haven't really brought that up, yet. You know Eames doesn't like to be pushed into taking time off. If the moment isn't just right…" Goren smiled. "Hell hath no fury, Captain."

"I have an ex-wife, Detective," Ross nodded. "Believe me, I know."

**0-0-0-0**

Alex bent her head over the sink, fighting ripples of nausea and dizziness as they took turns slowly assaulting her body. She couldn't escape the latest nightmare. The fuzzy images she remembered leaked into every thought she had, though she still could not put into words what her mind was showing. The panic and anxiety clinging tightly to her were suffocating her sanity.

In the hour since she woke, everything had been a chore. The hot shower she looked forward to every morning was uncomfortable, her skin crawling under the small drops of water. Dressing was anything but routine. In her bra and underwear, and one sock, Alex spent ten minutes searching for the sock's mate. When she found it on the bed next to her pants and shirt, she cried.

And then there were her wrists.

Alex offered a silent thank you for the cold, rainy weather as she looked down at her sleeves, long enough to cover all but the tips of her fingers. Turning on the water, she pulled up the sleeves, cringing at the ugly pink marks around her wrists. She quickly washed and dried her hands and roughly yanked the sleeves back into place.

Alex left the restroom and made her way to the small break area. She frowned, seeing the lack of Skittles in the vending machine, and turned towards to counter housing the coffee maker. Alex poured a cup for her partner and reached for the sugar as she poured her own. As she ripped open the small packets, her thoughts wandered again to her nightmare. She could see someone standing in front of her, but she could not see his face. He had something in his hand…

Reaching up, Alex rubbed her left cheek. She dumped the handful of empty sugar packets in the small garbage can under the counter and snatched the coffee cups. Walking through the squad room and past her desk, she saw Ross in the conference room, speaking with her partner. Though she could hear his voice, she didn't catch his words until she was through the conference room door.

"Believe me, I know."

"Know what?" Alex asked, setting a coffee cup on the table in front of Goren.

"That you two have your hands full with this case," Ross answered. Goren stilled a smile, approving of the captain's quick response. Ross rose from the chair, offering it to Alex as he silently examined her. She accepted with a nod. He stood behind her, eyes conveying his worry to Goren. "Keep me in the loop today." Ross headed for the door.

"Yes, Sir," Goren nodded, knowing Ross was talking about Alex more than the case. "Are you ready to go?" he asked his partner, reaching for his coffee. She nodded. "Okay." Goren lifted the cup, grumbling as the coffee slipped over his lips. He handed the cup across the table and swallowed awkwardly. "This is your cup. There's way too much sugar in here for my tastes."

**0-0-0-0**

The drive to Hoboken was quiet. Eames spent the time staring out the passenger window; fingers tracing the paths of ran drops as they raced across the glass. Goren tried several times to spark a conversation, but Eames' one-word answers stifled his attempts. Goren slowed the SUV, coming to a stop in front of the Hales' house. He removed the keys from the ignition and unbuckled his seat belt. Eames continued to run her fingers down the window.

"Eames? We're here," he said softly.

"Yeah." As her hand closed over the belt buckle, Goren's hand closed over hers. She flashed him an angry look.

"What's going on?" he asked. She didn't answer with words, simply furthering her glare. "Come on, Eames. You let me drive. Not 'let me' like I asked if I could…Handed me the keys and said, 'Drive, Goren'." Eames dropped her eyes and used her free hand to brush a strand of hair from her face.

"I didn't get much sleep last night. I didn't think being behind the wheel was a good idea."

"How did you get to work this morning?"

"I drove…I drove." Eames' voice faded as she answered her partner. Goren nodded.

"Are you up for this today?"

"Of course I am." She met his eyes, anger snapping through her words.

"All right." He let go of Eames' hand and slid out of the vehicle. She rolled her eyes as she unbuckled and opened the door. Goren waited patiently for her, umbrella open. "Forensics has finished with the house," he stated as she met his side under the umbrella. "We have permission to roam freely. Thought we could give Connie's room a good old tossin'." Goren lowered and closed the umbrella when they reached the porch. He lifted the crime scene tape and Eames ducked underneath.

"I haven't done one of those in years." Once in the house, Goren walked next to Eames, shielding her view of the blood stain on the carpet. They made their way up the stairs, each taking a side of the hallway as they looked for Connie's room.

"Here." Goren flicked the light switch and stepped into the fairly large bedroom.

"It's pretty sparse," she said slipping past Goren. The bedroom sheltered a full sized bed, a small dresser, a two-drawer filing cabinet and an older, wooden desk. "Let's go through the dresser and the closet before we make a mess with any papers." Goren moved to the other side of the room and opened the closet door a few inches.

"This is going to be easy," he said. He stepped to the side pulling the door fully open. "It's empty." Eames frowned and moved to the dresser. Each drawer she opened revealed the same as the closet.

"Well, let's see what the filing cabinet and the desk have to offer." Eames opened the top drawer of the cabinet, removed a lone file folder and sat on the floor. Goren took a seat at the desk, rifling through a small pile of papers stacked neatly on top. "I've got a budget…Income from odd jobs, rent paid to the Hales…"

"I have the same." He opened the two drawers on the left of the desk. "These are empty." Eames reached over and opened the bottom drawer of the cabinet.

"This one, too." She returned her attention to the papers in her hands. "I have a list of people Connie was helping with yard work. Mrs. Pedersen, Mr. and Mrs. Allan, Ms. Grainer…We spoke to all of these people yesterday." Goren stretched his legs, stood and paced one length of the room.

"There's nothing here." He turned to Eames. "Nothing."

"There's an office across the hall. Maybe we should toss that, too." Goren stepped towards Eames and she accepted his out stretched hand. As he pulled her to her feet, the dizziness took hold of her again. She braced herself with her hands on Goren's shoulders, as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Careful," he whispered. She closed her eyes, letting him keep her upright until she reclaimed her balance. Goren brushed her hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "What is this?" He gently touched her left cheek. "Do you have an ink smudge…" Goren moved his hand to her neck, slightly tilting her head to get a better view of her face.

"Bobby, if you lick your finger and do the 'mom-spit' thing, I'll drop you right here."

"I won't, promise," he said smiling briefly. He trailed his thumb over the spot once more before moving his hand to her arm. "It's a…a bruise. Can't wash those off." Goren watched Eames reach for her cheek and registered the fear that flicked through her eyes. His arm still around her, he felt her body tense and her breathing quicken. "Sit down."

"I don't need to sit," Eames said, pulling herself out of Goren's hold. "I'm fine." She straightened the hem of her shirt. "Let's go across the hall." Goren sighed and followed as Eames left the room. After a few more hours of searching the house, they would be heading back to New York. Goren would wait until then to confront Eames. Her insomnia, her shoulder, now her bruised cheek…Something was going on and this last exchange was the last opportunity Eames had to lie about it.

**0-0-0-0**

"You don't have sufficient evidence for a search warrant on Connie's phone." Ross dropped the file folder on his desk and turned to face Goren.

"But, Captain, if we could just—"

"No. You have no fingerprints, you have no murder weapon. Conjecture is all you have on Connie's involvement. I can't go to a judge with that." Eames appeared at the door, stopping the argument between the two men.

"I have autopsy results."

"Anything that helps your case?" Ross asked.

"Not really. Cause of death is exsanguination due to severing of the carotid artery. They were given heavy doses of an over the counter sleep aid before their throats were cut. Rodgers says fifteen, twenty minutes tops for bleed out." Eames turned to Goren. "None of the knives we found in the wall are a match to the wounds. Most of the knives were butter knives, older knives from the Hales' kitchen. The one used for the murders was probably more along the lines of a hunting knife."

"Well, I suggest the two of you take another crack at it. Re-interview if you have to. Do you even have a game plan for your interview with Connie tomorrow?" Goren looked to Eames.

"Somewhat."

"Somewhat," Ross repeated. He rounded the desk and took a seat. "I seriously hope tomorrow you can tell me more than 'somewhat'." Goren and Eames left the office.

"We're getting snowballed here," he said as he led her to the conference room. "This isn't any Joe-Blow. I know Connie is involved in this somehow." Eames took a seat, looking at Goren curiously as he closed and locked the door.

"We'll figure this out. Nichols is back from his vacation tomorrow. It might not hurt to have another pair of eyes on this."

"Yeah," Goren sighed. "We can talk to Ross in the morning." He grabbed the other chair, dragging it to Eames' side of the table. He leaned his elbows on the table, resting his temple on folded hands. "What's going on with you?" Eames straightened and pushed her chair back a bit.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. What's wrong?" His voice was quiet and his eyes conveyed a deep concern.

"I told you before, Bobby, I'm fine." She stared him down for a long, awkward moment before he moved to face her straight on.

"You're not fine, Eames." He raised his hand motioning to her. "Where did you get the bruise on your cheek?"

"I don't—"

"And what about your shoulder? How…How many times did you reach for it yesterday?" Eames opened her mouth to answer but Goren interjected. "And your hands…You've been rubbing your wrists today, just like your shoulder." Eames shook her head and stood.

"I don't know what you think is happening here, Bobby, but I'm finished with this conversation." She moved past him. Goren sprung from his chair and in one stride was behind her as she started turning the handle. He pushed a hand against the door, preventing it from opening, and reached around her to re-engage the lock. "Bobby, stop it."

"Turn around and talk to me."

"No." She ducked under Goren's arm and moved to the far end of the table. "There is nothing wrong." Her breathing was ragged now, her anger stronger than Goren had ever seen. "No need to talk to you about anything!" She tried to round the table as he approached her, but Goren anticipated her move. He met her on the opposite side of the table and slipped an arm around her waist as she pivoted to run from him.

"Stop fighting me," he said struggling slightly against her.

"Then let me go!" Eames tried to push his arm off her waist but Goren easily caught both her arms just below the elbow in his free hand. Turning her, he gently, yet quickly, moved her arms behind her back and pinned her carefully against the wall. "Let me go," she whispered.

"No." Goren reached up and slowly pulled the collar of her shirt over her shoulder, revealing a purplish bruise. Eames squirmed against him; his size prevented her from escaping. "Where did you get this bruise, Eames?" She glared at him and twisted her leg. Goren ran his hand down her thigh, pushing her knee to the outside of his leg. "Don't kick me," he warned.

The two turned their heads, hearing a knock at the door. Eames took the opportunity, pushing Goren backwards. She yanked open the door and jogged across the squad room. Ross looked inside, raising his eyebrows as Goren moved to his side.

"What did you do?" Ross asked watching Eames dig through her purse.

"I, uh…asked how she was feeling." Goren looked down. "But that's…that's not all." He could hear the drawers of Eames' desk being violently wrenched opened and, in turn, slammed shut.

"Robert Goren!" Eames yelled from across the room. Ross looked to Goren.

"I took her keys."


	6. Blatant Invasion

**Law and Order: Criminal Intent**

**High Maintenance**

**Chapter 6**

**Blatant Invasion**

Goren knew cornering Eames in the conference room would incite some backlash. He expected her to get angry, expected her to push back, though he would admit it happened earlier in the conversation than anticipated. He expected a few choice words to drop from her lips, and in the moments it took to literally drag her from the squad room to his vehicle, he was not disappointed.

"_Give me my fucking keys."_

"_Get your ass in the damned car before I throw you in the fucking trunk."_

He could use those words, too.

He opened the door, pushed her inside despite her protests, and used the remote lock on his key ring to keep her inside. They fought over getting her seatbelt buckled and Goren took a few slaps in the process. Frustrating as she was becoming, Goren took a couple of deep breaths and let her fume. He knew what she needed and the parking garage of 1PP was not the place to get it.

As he slowed the SUV in front of Eames' apartment, he was not surprised when she hopped out before the vehicle had stopped completely. He skirted the front of the SUV and watched as Eames, halfway through the front yard, turned to him.

"Give me my keys." The front light of the apartment highlighted the small wet trails that trickled from her eyes.

"No," replied quietly, shaking his head. He walked slowly to her. "I'm going in with you."

"I don't want you in my apartment! Give me my keys!" Eames took a step towards Goren, hand held expectantly in front of her. Goren grabbed her elbow and pulled her close.

"No. I am going in with you." Goren kept his grip on Eames, walking her to the stairs. He positioned her between the door and his body. "No elbows," he whispered against her ear. "Do not go in and slam the door in my face, either."

"I should," she snapped.

"You won't," he warned. Reaching around her with both arms, Goren held the door knob in one hand, keys in the other. Once the lock clicked he stuffed the keys into his pants pocket and placed his hand on her back. He opened the door and pushed her, rather roughly, through the opening.

Goren shed his coat, hanging it on a hook near the door, and mentally prepared for what needed to happen next. Eames was beyond the point of normal over-exhaustion, beyond the point where arguing to purge her body of extra adrenaline would be beneficial. She was wound too tightly. From the way she was poised in the middle of her living room, Goren knew pushing her was going to make one hell of a snap.

"Aren't you going to take off your coat and relax?" he asked taking a step towards her.

"Get out, Bobby." Goren moved a step to the side, grabbing a magazine from the coffee table.

"Why don't you read a little while you relax," he said, tossing the magazine in her direction. She caught it awkwardly between her arms and her body then deftly pitched it behind her.

"I don't want to read." Eames changed her stance, squaring herself with Goren. He slowly closed the distance between them and undid the belt and buttons on her coat, baiting her with a blatant invasion of her personal space.

"You should take this off." Eames stood still, fists clenched, as Goren slid the coat over her shoulders and down her arms. He let the coat fall to the floor as his fingers closed around her wrists. "Where did you get the bruise on your shoulder, Eames?"

"Bobby, get out," she whispered through gritted teeth. Eames took a step backwards trying to replace the distance, but Goren followed. He raised her hands, bringing them between their bodies.

"Show me your wrists." His words were for courtesy only, as his fingers were already pulling her sleeves out of her iron grip. Eames again took a step backwards, hitting the wall. "This isn't all," he said stepping forward, watching her eyes. "There are more, aren't there? More bruises…" He dropped a hand to her hip. "You know, if you won't show me…" Goren's hand moved up Eames' side, fingers skating under the hem of her shirt. "I have no problem finding them for myself." His fingers skimmed the soft skin on her side.

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed, pushing him backwards. Eames raised her right hand, taking a swing.

"You wanna fight now?" he asked, leaning back to avoid her fist. "Come on, Eames," he laughed.

"Shut up! Just get out! Get the hell out!" She lunged towards him again.

"Really?" Goren caught her next punch, pushing her arm away. "You know you won't win." He continued to deflect her attacks.

"I don't want to win," Eames said in a gasp for breath. "I want you to leave me the fuck alone!"

"Such language, Eames," Goren scolded. "I hope you don't talk like that around your nephew." Eames stopped her assault. Turning to the side, she wiped the back of her hand across her wet eyes. Goren looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. Eames took advantage of the gap in his attention and pounced again, landing a surprised Goren on the couch. Quick to recover, he pulled her down and across his lap, and as he laid her back he pinned one of her arms between his back and the cushions.

"Damn it, Bobby!" Goren's arm, under her neck, reached out, hand grabbing her other arm.

"Why don't you stop fighting?" He wrapped an arm around her knees to keep her from kicking. "I told you…You won't win." He held her tightly as she struggled to free herself. Ten minutes of wrestling Goren and demanding an immediate release, Eames' drive started to waver. She sighed heavily and adjusted herself to meet Goren's eyes.

"Let me go."

"Are you going to tell me what's going on with you?" Eames hesitated briefly before answering.

"Fine."

"All right." Goren released her legs, slipping them over his knees to hang over the edge of the couch. He helped her to a sitting position, keeping his arm around her shoulders as she steadied herself.

"I've been having these dreams," she started slowly, "since last…last Friday. I don't remember them; I just remember waking up the next morning…scared." Eames kept her focus on her hands, wringing them as she gave her explanation. "And every morning, I've found a new bruise. There's, uh, one above my knee and one above my elbow. There's one on my side."

"Show me." Goren's voice was soft, but Eames knew his statement was not a request. She lifted the hem of her shirt revealing the greenish bruise that sat below her rib cage. "That's an older one?" Eames nodded.

"It was the first one I noticed."

"Then your shoulder and your cheek…And your wrists."

"Yeah." Eames pulled the sleeves up to her elbow. "These showed up this morning." Goren gently took her hands turning her arms to examine the purple marks. "I remember something being tied tightly around my wrists, and I remember someone slapping me…but that is the only part of the dream I can put my finger on."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked rubbing his thumbs softly across the backs of her hands.

"What was I supposed to say? 'Hey, Bobby, my sub-conscious is beating me up while I'm sleeping.'"

"Well…Maybe. Yes, that's exactly what you should have said." Eames shook her head with a small moan of disbelief. "Eames, it's not uncommon for people to have dreams of being chased or attacked, especially people in our line of work."

"I know."

"And it's widely believed that if dreams seem real enough…"

"Yeah, yeah. If you die in your dream you die in real life. Don't you think that's a little bit of a stretch?"

"No. Look at your bruises. The one on your cheek…You said in the dream this…this person slapped you. And your wrists were bound with something tight." Eames stayed quiet, looking down at her hands, still wrapped tenderly in Goren's. "Our last case was…hard. You haven't had any time off in almost a year. Your brain is trying to tell you that you need a break."

"I'm not taking time off in the middle of a case," Eames said quietly.

"I know. Connie will be in town tomorrow. After we talk to him… You need to talk to Ross about taking a few days. Eames?"

"Okay."

"Is that an 'I'm-just-saying-okay-so-you'll-leave-me-alone' or an actual agreement?" Goren asked with a hint of a smile.

"I will talk to Ross tomorrow."

"Why don't I make you some tea or some warm milk? Maybe that will help you sleep a little better tonight." Eames had her doubts, but she nodded a thank you, too tired to argue anymore. Goren stood, releasing her hands and wandered into the kitchen.

Eames twisted, stretching her legs across the length of the couch. Her head tilted back, leaning into the soft support of the couch's arm. She fought as her eyelids closed defiantly.

_he jumped at her before she could react_

_he landed heavily on her shoulder as they hit the floor_

_she reached up_

_scratching his face_

_slamming her fists against his head and chest_

_anything she could do to get his body off of hers_

_ bitch!_

_ she felt the sharp sting of his hand across her face_

_ he lifted her hands above her head_

_ wrapping something painfully tight around her wrists_

_ she tried to make out her dimly lit surroundings_

_ but the fog in her head wouldn't allow her to see clearly_

_ she was lost_

_ two voices_

_ she heard two voices_

_ one very familiar_

_ arguing_

_ no!_

_ don't!_

_ the familiar voice pleaded_

_ the other came into view_

_ she watched in slow horror_

_ as he pointed his gun at her head_


	7. Winter Of Discontent

**a/n:…please don't hate me…going to hell for this chapter, I think**

**Law and Order: Criminal Intent**

**High Maintenance**

**Chapter Seven**

**Winter of Discontent**

Goren sat on the floor next to the couch, head propped on his hand. He had been watching his partner sleep for the better part of forty minutes, having been pulled from his light slumber by a soft yet painful moan from Eames. The blanket Goren used to cover her when she first drifted off was wound tightly in her fingers. Her brow was furrowed and she was starting a restless toss.

"Stop…please," she whispered. Goren shifted to rest on his knees and gently moved her hair from her face.

"Eames," he said quietly. "Eames, wake up." He lightly brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. "Alex…Wake up." Eames stirred under his touch, eyes slowly opening. "Hey, sleepy," he smiled. Eames took a deep breath and met Goren's eyes.

"What the hell are you still doing here?"

"I so enjoyed our fight, I thought I'd wait here for round two." Eames rolled her eyes and sat up, crossing her legs under the blanket. Goren sat on the couch in front of her. "You were talking in your sleep, saying 'stop'."

"I had the nightmare again," she said, rubbing her eyes. "I, uh, didn't wake up screaming this time, though." She looked at Goren again. "What time is it?"

"Almost two. You've been sleeping for about three hours."

"You should go home."

"By the time I get home, I'll have to turn around to pick you up for work." Goren shook his head. "I don't want to leave you alone. I'm worried about you." He rested his hand on Eames' shoulder. She shrugged him away.

"I'm fine." She stood. "I'm going to bed. Go home." Goren watched Eames stalk out of the room. He smiled, sure he heard her mutter the words 'jack ass' before she slammed the bedroom door. Goren grabbed the blanket, settling himself on the couch. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, setting the alarm, and placed it on the floor. He had no doubt the morning would bring another long day with his partner.

**0-0-0-0**

"Are you sure you don't want something to eat?"

"Yeah, Mrs. Letner. I'm fine." Connie dropped his backpack on the couch. "Thank you, though."

"Honey, I'm so sorry." Mrs. Letner stepped forward enveloping Connie in a tight hug. He dropped his head to her shoulder, tears flowing uncontrollably.

"Do, huh, do the cops know who did this?" he asked pulling back slightly.

"I don't know. They wouldn't be able to tell me anything, though. I'm not family."

"You are to me," Connie smiled. "My aunt…She really liked you. She said you reminded her of her mother." Mrs. Letner returned Connie's smile.

"They were good people, Sweetheart. Be proud to have been raised by them. They did a good job." She raised her hand, covering Connie's cheek. "If you'll excuse me for just a moment, I need to make a quick phone call."

"Of course," Connie nodded. He took a seat on the couch next to his backpack. He dug through the front pocket, pulling out an old beaten-up picture. He was young, only seven, when it was taken. He was smiling, wrapped in the arms of his aunt and uncle.

It was the day his mother left him and the day he found what he had been denied – a loving family. The Hales had done so much for him and he made their lives a living hell. The last seven years were spent rebuilding bridges, regaining trust. Now he would never have their forgiveness. He would never be able to prove to his aunt and uncle that he truly loved them.

Connie ran a hand through his hair and released a breath he didn't know he was holding. He returned the picture to the backpack and looked up as Mrs. Letner entered the room.

"I'm glad you found an earlier flight into town," she said, sitting next to him. "And I know it's late, but Sargent Millward is on his way over to talk with you."

"Why now? It's almost two in the morning, Mrs. Letner. Haven't I kept you up long enough tonight?" Connie laughed.

"Don't worry about me, Silly," she said, playfully smacking his arm. "I wanted Sargent Millward to prepare you for your talk with the detectives tomorrow." Mrs. Letner looked to the phone in her hands. "I left a message for Detective Goren…Maybe he can come here tomorrow so we don't have to make the trip. You really shouldn't be roaming around after such a long flight."

"Two flights," Connie joked. "I'll be okay with Detective Goren. He and I have gone around once before."

"Yes," Mrs. Letner nodded, "under very different circumstances." She turned her attention to a knock at the door. "That's Sargent Millward." She rose and opened the door. Millward stepped inside, smiling softly at Connie.

"I'm so sorry about your aunt and uncle," he said, shaking the young man's hand.

"Thank you, Sir. Do the detectives know who's responsible?"

"No, Connie. Though I suspect they'll have their answers really soon." He motioned to Mrs. Letner. "Please, both of you sit. There's really only one thing I need to tell you for the morning." As Mrs. Letner settled herself on the couch next to Connie, Millward drew his side arm, firing one shot at the woman's head.

"What the hell!" Connie screamed, jumping to his feet. The second shot fired hit Connie square in the chest, throwing him to the floor. "N-no… Please, please don't."

The third shot silenced Connie's pleas.

**0-0-0-0**

Detective Nichols stepped into the conference room, removing his coat and draping it over the back of an empty chair. He crossed his arms over his chest as he moved to study the pictures on the cork board.

"Good morning." Nichols turned towards the door.

"Good morning, Goren. Ross says you have quite a case here."

"You could say that." Goren dumped his binder on the table and joined Nichols by the board. "I appreciate you helping with this." He handed Nichols the autopsy file.

"I'm more than happy to do so." Nichols looked over the papers as the two sat at the table. "Cow's blood, huh?"

"None of the slaughter houses in the area have reported anything missing."

"Of course."

"Gentlemen." Goren and Nichols looked up as their captain entered the room. "Your three girls haven't had any contact with Connie. They all died six years ago."

"How?" Goren asked, shaking his head.

"Believe it or not, Tina died from the flu. According to the prison's physician, she didn't report her symptoms right away and was suffering from severe dehydration when she was finally taken to see the doctors." Ross paused, finger tapping on the edge of the table. "Claudia and Carolyn committed suicide three months after Tina's death." Goren sighed.

"Okay, okay. So that's…that's another avenue closed."

"Excuse me, Detective Goren?" A young woman appeared in the door way, handing Goren a piece of paper. "This message came in for you early this morning." Goren took the paper, thanking the woman as she left.

"Connie's in town. He came in around one this morning." He looked to Nichols. "Mrs. Letner wants us to go to her house to speak with him."

"Detectives, we have no prints, no murder weapons, no other suspects…If you don't get what you need out of Connie today…I'm sorry, it's over." The two detectives nodded. "Will Eames be riding along?"

"Of course I will be," she said from behind Ross. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Considering the tirade the two of you shared yesterday, I wasn't sure you were on speaking terms." Eames looked past her captain, glaring an accusing look in Goren's direction.

"We're not," she said firmly.

"All right, I'm tired of this," Ross said looking between Goren and Eames. "The two of you need to work this out, now. I don't need this…whatever it is getting in the way of this case. I think we are all agreed you're on thin enough ice as it is. Get your shit together and get your day started." Ross left the room.

"Um, let's go," Nichols said quietly. "I can read your notes on the way." He hung back by Goren's side as they followed Eames to the elevators. "What did you do to her?" he asked smiling.

"What did _I_ do? What makes you think I started this?" Goren shook his head as Nichols shrugged. The doors to the elevator were not fully closed when Eames whipped around and pinned Goren with furious eyes.

"What the hell was that? Are you trying to get me taken off this case, Bobby?" she asked stepping closer to him.

"No, Eames, I…"

"You 'what'?" she sneered. Nichols cleared his throat and pushed his way into the small space between Goren and Eames. He put his hands on Eames arms and walked her backwards.

"Alex," he scolded softly. "Let's just get the interview with Connie taken care of and, afterwards, if you want to kick Goren's ass, he's all yours." The elevator doors opened revealing the parking garage. Nichols turned Eames and guided her through the doors. When the trio reached the SUV, Eames jumped into the back seat and slammed the door.

"Thanks a lot," Goren muttered across the hood of the vehicle. Nichols smiled and opened the passenger door.

**0-0-0-0**

"I'm still not getting an answer from Mrs. Letner." Eames closed her phone.

"What are the odds we're walking into a nasty little trap?" Nichols asked.

"I'd say odds are pretty good." Goren parked the SUV. "We need to go in armed. Connie won't do anything in potential view of others. He'll wait until we're in the house." Exiting the vehicle, ready to draw their side arms, the three carefully approached the house. "We clear the rooms together."

"I'll go first," Nichols said quietly. Goren knocked on the door.

"Mrs. Letner, it's Detective Goren," he called. He paused, hoping to hear an answer from within. Checking if Eames was ready, he drew his firearm then nodded to Nichols. Goren turned the knob, throwing open the door, Nichols faltering briefly as he caught site of two bodies. Once satisfied the house was empty, the detectives stood in the center of the living room. Eames grabbed her phone and moved to the doorway.

"What were you saying about avenues being closed?" Nichols moved to Mrs. Letner's side. "Single shot just above the right eye." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and removed the phone from her hand.

"They were both murdered. Connie was shot once in the chest, once in the head." Goren stood. He pointed to the bullet hole in the wall. "This would be higher if the wounds were self-inflicted."

"The number on the redial is the main line to 1PP."

"Sargent Millward is on his way. Rodgers is coming, too." Eames looked at Mrs. Letner's body then to the backpack on the couch. "Where do we go now?" she asked rifling through the pockets.

"This doesn't make any sense," Goren said, watching as she pulled a change of clothing and a picture from the backpack. "That's all there is?" Eames nodded. She shoved the clothes into the backpack and wandered into the kitchen.

"Goren?" Nichols joined Goren's side. "Clearly Connie is not the one trying to get your attention." Goren nodded. "In light of this…"

"I don't know."

"Detectives? Oh, my goodness…" Millward entered the house, hand over his mouth.

"Uh, this is Detective Nichols. Sargent Millward." The two exchanged nods. "Mrs. Letner left a message for me early this morning asking to speak with Connie here at the house instead of at the station. This is what we walked into." Millward shook his head.

In the kitchen, Eames opened a smaller cabinet drawer and pulled out a handful of envelopes. She leaned a hip against the countertop, sifting through phone and electric bills.

"Find anything good?" Eames jumped at the voice in her ear.

"No, Sargent, I haven't." She put the envelopes back into the drawer. "Just bills."

"Hmm, too bad." Eames frowned, moving to the side to put some distance between her and Millward. "Hey, hey. Don't go away," he smiled, following her.

"You need to back—"

"You need to calm down." Millward ran his hands over Eames' shoulders. "I'm not gonna hurt you." He leaned closer. "Yet." Eames pushed him away and started back towards the living room. "Don't walk away from me." Millward grabbed Eames, pulling her back roughly.

"Let go!" she screamed. Eames lifted her hands, smashing them down across Millward's nose.

"Bitch!"

"Let go! Let go!" Goren and Nichols came rushing into the kitchen, both tearing Eames from Millward's arms.

"She broke my fucking nose!" Millward yelled. Nichols held Millward back as Goren took Eames outside.

"See, the thing is Eames doesn't break noses without good reason. What happened?"

"I don't think she heard me come in. I think I scared…I scared her."

"And why did she have to yell for you to let her go?"

"I was just trying to calm her down. She just went crazy." Nichols released Millward.

"I think you'd better go. We'll handle this case by ourselves." Millward straightened his shirt and walked out. Fucking bitch," he mumbled, wiping his sleeve under his nose.

**0-0-0-0**

"What the hell was that all about?" Goren asked angrily.

"He fucking grabbed me!" Eames spat.

"Grabbed you how?"

"Grabbed me! Like…like…" She eyed Goren accusingly. "Like you did last night."

"Eames…" Goren opened and closed his mouth, not knowing how to respond. "I hope you know I would…I would never, _never_ hurt you like that. I was just—"

"Being an ass, I know," she finished. "I don't know what _he_ was doing." Millward came through the front door, passing without a glance to either detective. He hopped into his vehicle and sped away. Goren smiled as he turned back to Eames.

"The guy looks good with a broken nose."

"How are we doing?" Nichols asked, stepping next to Eames.

"I'm fine."

"Did he hurt you at all?"

"No." Eames refused to look at Goren or Nichols, but Goren didn't need to see her face to know how angry she was.

**0-0-0-0**

"I know you're upset, Eames," Goren started.

"Upset? Upset! I am so beyond upset! He-he gets in my face, says he won't hurt me, 'yet' and…" Eames took a deep breath. No one paid attention to the door opening.

"You broke his nose," Nichols said quietly.

"I had every right to defend myself."

"Eames?" Ross called from the doorway.

"Every right!"

"Eames!"

"What!" She turned, closing her eyes and cursing silently as she realized she yelled at her captain. Ross raised an eyebrow.

"You just earned yourself a trip to my office." Eames opened her mouth to argue. "Go, now," Ross said firmly. Eames shoved her chair aside and left the observation room. Ross closed the door. "I just received a very…interesting call from Sargent Millward's supervisor. When the hell were you going to tell me about this?"

"We were trying to calm her down, first," Nichols offered.

"So is it true that she 'went crazy' like Millward claims?"

"We didn't see it happen," Nichols replied.

"She said he grabbed her and—"

"I heard that part of the story…from half way down the hall." Ross opened the door. "You have twenty-four hours to find a lead. As far as Eames goes, she's off the case. Do you still have her keys?" Ross reached out his hand. Goren obliged, handing over the keys.

"These are mine, actually. Her spare set."

"Get back to work."


	8. Disorder

**a/n: short and sweet…or not so sweet. felt it had to stand alone**

**Law and Order: Criminal Intent**

**High Maintenance**

**Chapter Eight**

**Disorder**

Alex sat in her car, forehead resting on the steering wheel, trying to calm down. There was no reason for Ross to pull her from the case, no reason to send her home. She ripped the keys from the ignition and headed inside her apartment.

/

Sensing motion to his left, Goren looked up. Sargent Millward approached the desk. Purple bruises seeped from underneath the white bandage across his nose. His eyes looked sunken against the painful color.

"Is there someplace we can talk? I have information."

/

"Hi, Sweetheart. Welcome home." Eames froze in the doorway, staring at the stranger sitting in her living room. She reached for her gun. "Go ahead. But I have one, too." He pointed his firearm at Eames. "Why don't you just put yours on the coffee table here?"

/

Nichols closed the conference room's door. He gave Goren a questioning look as Sargent Millward removed two pictures, one of the Hales, one of Connie and Mrs. Letner, from the cork board and placed them carefully on the table.

"I believe you know my brother, Detective Goren."

/

"What do you want?" Eames asked, carefully setting her gun on the table.

"Right to the point, huh?" He set his gun on the table next to Eames'. "It's very simple, really. I want your partner." He rubbed his hands together slowly. "It's my turn to ask a question. Are you going to come along willingly or are we gonna have a bit of a scuffle?"

/

"You took them all away," Millward said, leaning over the pictures. "All of them. Brothers, cousins, friends…All gone." He looked up, meeting Goren's eyes with an ugly smirk. "All but one. Does the name Cameron Dickson ring a bell?"

/

He jumped at Eames before she could react. She twisted, trying to free herself from his arms, tripping him in the process. He landed heavily on her right shoulder as they hit the floor. She lifted her left elbow, feeling a sharp pain rip through her arm as she made contact with his head. Turning to lay on her back, she reached up, scratching at his face and slamming her fists against his head and chest, anything she could do to get his body off of hers.

/

"Roses are red…" Millward reached to his belt, pulling a hunting knife from its holster, and set it on top of the Hales' picture.

/

He thrust a fist into her right side, forcing a halt to her attack. She gasped for a breath, tears filling her eyes.

/

"Violets are blue…" Millward laid his gun on top of Connie and Mrs. Letner's picture.

/

"Bitch!" He struck her face with the back of his hand. "Don't do that again. I don't want to kill you quite yet. But I will if I have to."

/

"I know where your bitch of a partner is." Millward tossed a set of keys across the table, keys Goren recognized immediately as Eames' missing set. "Do you?"


	9. Through The Looking Glass

**a/n: Dickson and his troop…they're my little bastards from ch 2. Spoilers in this one for 'blind spot'. We're getting close to the end, thank you to everyone who has r&r. y'all are the best **

**Law and Order: Criminal Intent**

**High Maintenance**

**Chapter Nine**

**Through The Looking Glass**

Goren leaned his back against the two-way mirror. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, listening via the intercom as Millward told Nichols his story.

_ "So Cameron Dickson is your brother," Nichols said taking a seat._

_ "He's my half-brother. So were Grant and Tiny. Anderson and Stevens were cousins." Millward sighed. "I miss Tiny the most. He was such an ass but he could lay on the innocence at the drop of a hat. It was so hard to pull that trigger."_

_ "You killed Tiny?"_

_ "Yeah," he scoffed and leaned his cuffed hands on the table. "See, we had an agreement. We couldn't risk anyone getting caught by the police, spilling information that would get the rest of us arrested. In order to save the family business, anyone caught by the cops had to take a leap of faith. Grant and Stevens, they didn't die in a shoot-out like the reports state, they shot each other."_

_ "They knew there was no way to get away from the police."_

_ "Right. And Anderson, he took care of himself. But, Tiny…The cops already had him in cuffs. He didn't have the opportunity. Everyone was running around, it was a mad house. No one saw me take the shot."_

_ "You allowed yourself to be arrested."_

_ "Yes, but I was part of the plan to avenge everyone's deaths. When Cameron was arrested, he got word to me to keep tabs on Goren. One day, Cameron would be a free man and he would show Goren the pain he caused our family. It was no change of heart that got Cameron talking. He dumped all of the information he had on the other drug rings to facilitate his parole." Millward sat back in his chair and frowned. "They would all be alive right now if it wasn't for Goren."_

"_Detective Goren didn't take them away from you. He didn't force any of them to…take their leap of faith."_

"_He was the detective that worked the case. He just wouldn't back off. For four years, FOUR YEARS he hunted my family."_

"_What does all of this have to do with Detective Eames?" Nichols asked taking a deep breath and sitting back in his chair._

Goren cringed, knowing the answer Millward word give.

"_I've been following Goren for twelve years. He's really a boring man." Millward shrugged. "I know his mother is dead. So is his brother. Father's been out of the picture for a long time now." He paused. "Detective Eames is all he has left. She was just in the right place at the right time."_

Goren heard the door open and though he turned his head in the door's direction, he kept his eyes closed.

"Eames apartment is empty, as you said it would be," Ross started, moving to Goren's side. "There are signs of a struggle in the living room. No sign of her car."

"Neighbors?"

"No one's home." Goren sighed and opened his eyes. "Her purse and side arm were found on the coffee table," Ross continued. "There was only one credit card in her purse, a debit card, no cash."

"She only has one credit card…for, for emergencies. And she doesn't carry cash. She always uses the debit card."

"There was a dollar's worth of change next to her weapon."

"The change…The change is her Skittles fund…for the vending machine. She keeps it in her pants' pocket." Goren turned and stared at Millward through the glass.

_ "So imagine my surprise, my excitement when Reverend Hale muttered Goren's filthy name. It was the perfect opportunity to get Goren's attention. I had to wait seven years to do it, but… I called my cousin, he's a lawyer, Cameron's lawyer, and he gathered all the information he could on Connie's arrest. I knew Goren would pin Connie for the Hales' murders." Millward looked to his hands. "I was really careful not to leave any finger prints, anything behind that would give Goren reason to doubt his initial conclusion. When Cameron was released, he told me when to kill them, what to do if Connie came home. Mrs. Letner was…an unfortunate accident."_

_ "Where is Eames, Millward?"_

_ "No, no. You're the great detectives from Major Case. You guys find her." Nichols left Interrogation._

"Everything but what we really need to know," Ross muttered as Nichols joined them.

"We've been here before…With Jo." Goren turned to Ross. "Remember?"

"I do," Ross said quietly.

"We were lucky." Goren turned back to the glass. Nichols looked to Ross, silently seeking an explanation.

"We thought Jo was the next target. We had her in protective custody before we found out she was the perp." He looked to Goren. "After Eames was abducted but before Jo had a chance to hurt her."

**0-0-0-0**

Eames slowly opened her eyes, head pounding from Dickson's attack. She could taste the blood in her mouth. Her arms were bound above her head, hands sticky with blood as she felt the wire that painfully held her in place. Eames curled her sore legs closer to her body, sitting up a little straighter, alleviating the pressure on her wrists from the weight of her body.

Eames looked around her dimly lit surroundings. The room was unfinished, enclosed only by drywall and a plywood floor. The windows were boarded over. In the far corner, a camping light sat atop a card table, the only thing in the room.

"Hey." She turned her head towards the voice from the doorway. "You're awake."

**0-0-0-0**

"Goren, maybe we should take you off this case."

"Excuse me, Captain, if I may over step here." Ross gave Nichols a look. "Dickson wants Goren. If he is removed from the case now, we risk Dickson killing Eames before we know her location."

"He's right," Goren said, still facing the glass. "If Dickson thinks we're not playing along, he won't hesitate to hurt her." Goren left the observation room, Ross and Nichols following. Goren looked to the two armed guards in the hallway. "I have one more question, then he's all yours." The guards nodded as he entered Interrogation.

**0-0-0-0**

"How are you feeling?" Dickson asked, sitting on the floor next to Eames. "Cause I gotta say, you look like shit," he chuckled. "Are you hungry? I have food." Jumping to his feet he crossed the room to the table. He grabbed a plate and returned to the floor. "It's a chicken salad sandwich. I haven't had one of these in years." He took a bite then held the sandwich up to Eames' mouth. She stared at him, unmoving. "Suit yourself," he shrugged, taking another bite.

**0-0-0-0**

"Detective Goren," Millward smiled. "It's about time you came to see me."

"Where did you get Eames' keys?"

"From her apartment. I needed to make a copy for Cameron." Millward laughed. "It was so easy, too. I broke in through the front window. All those damned red flowers in the way," he frowned. "You know, one would think a Major Case detective smart enough to lock her windows."

Goren stormed into the hallway. He collected his coat and binder from his desk.

"You knew about the window," Nichols stated, grabbing his coat. Goren stopped his movements and nodded. "Let's go. Tell me about in on the way there."

**0-0-0-0**

Goren took a deep breath as he neared Eames' apartment. Every moment of Jo's abduction of Eames flashed through his mind as he relived the fear of not knowing if his partner was dead or alive. He stepped carefully through the front door. Couch cushions lay on the floor, throw pillows tossed about the room. Several pictures had been knocked off the mantel, littering the carpet with small shards of glass.

Nichols entered after Goren, immediately heading to the window. The curtain rod, removed from one of its brackets, hung awkwardly across the glass. Nichols pulled back the curtain, searching for the dirt trail.

"Is this what you found?" he asked, motioning Goren to join him.

"Yeah."

"Don't blame yourself. This could have been anything."

"Yeah." Goren ventured farther into the living room. "Could've been, but wasn't." He bent down, picking up a blanket from the floor. It was the blanket he used as he slept on Eames' couch that morning; the one he used to cover Eames after their fight. _'He grabbed me – like you did last night.'_

**0-0-0-0**

"Oh, I can't wait until Goren joins us!" Dickson laughed. "I am crawling out of my skin with anticipation. I've just waited so long. I left Goren a present at your apartment. Just a little something for him to keep to remember you." Dickson sat in front of Eames. "Can you hear the thunder, Alexandra?"

**0-0-0-0**

"Goren," Ross moved towards his detective. "This was found in the mail box." Ross handed Goren a yellow mailing envelop. Goren turned it over, finding his name scrawled across the front in black marker. He dropped the blanket and moved to the coffee table. Kneeling, he ripped open the package and dumped out the contents: Eames' badge and a hunting knife.

"That looks a lot like the knife Millward used to kill the Hales," Nichols offered. Goren stood and again picked up the blanket.

"Goren…" Ross was stopped by Nichols' hand on his arm.

"Wait," Nichols said quietly.

"Her dreams…" Goren mumbled to himself as he lifted the corner of the blanket, wrapping his fingers around it as Eames had done during her nightmare. "He hit her…Bound her wrists…She had…had marks."

"Who hit her? What marks?" Ross asked.

"I don't…" Goren was overtaken with the memory of the first time he and Eames visited the Hales' house. He remember Eames staring at the house, hand on her shoulder. _'I've been…'_ Goren shook his head, clearing his mind of all other thoughts, trying to hear what she had said. _'I've been…'_ "Here. I've been here." He dropped the blanket and turned to Ross and Nichols. "The farmhouse. We have to get to the Hales' house."

**0-0-0-0**

"It's too bad that you have to be involved in this, Alexandra. I really hate having to kill the pretty women." Dickson ran his fingers down Eames cheek. "You and I could've had a little fun." Eames pulled herself from Dickson's touch. He roughly grabbed her chin, forcing her face back to his. "Twelve years is a long time to go without a woman's touch." Dickson smiled. "But we don't have time for that right now. There are three cop cars out front. Your partner will be here soon."

**0-0-0-0**

"They can't approach the house. No one goes in until we are there and give the orders," Goren said over his shoulder to Ross. Ross closed his cell phone, tightly gripping the edge of his seat as Goren swerved the SUV through traffic.

"The team's in position. They have orders not to approach." He looked out the front window, then out the back, seeing the two squad cars in either direction stuck in the flow of vehicles.

"Must go faster," Nichols muttered holding the dash board as the vehicle lurched to the left. Goren smacked the flashing red light on the dash.

"Come on, people! Clear the way!"


	10. Echoes

**a/n: k…I know some of you are kind of 'eh' about the dream. A couple of months before I graduated from high school, I had a dream that I was driving home a couple of my friends. We were at a red light talking about how bright the full moon was. When the light turned green, I went into the intersection and looked out the driver's window to see the lights of another car right before it hit us. I woke up at that point with an incredible nose bleed. I was sore from head to toe for about a week and had bruises over my left shoulder and right hip. One month after graduation, we all got together for one last hoorah before going full time into summer jobs and moving to go to college in the fall. The thirteen of us went to OCB for supper, then to a movie. Around 11:30 that night, I was driving home two of my friends. We were at a red light and when Jenna started talking about the full moon…I wouldn't even classify it as déjà vu, it was so intense. I remember thinking 'Jenna's going to say this' and she did, and 'Kristy's going to say this' and she did. The light turned green, they started yelling at me to go but I was completely frozen. Then a car came through the intersection followed by two cop cars. The paper reported they had topped speeds of fifty mph during their chase. None of us heard the sirens or saw the lights until the cars were in front of us. Make of it what you will, no one can say one way or another, but I believe that dream saved our lives. If I wouldn't have been freaked out and would've gone through the intersection…I'm sure the three of us wouldn't be around today. I wanted to try it with Eames, have Goren could use that to find her. Such as it is, I hope y'all are enjoying the story : ) **

**Law and Order: Criminal Intent**

**High Maintenance**

**Chapter 10**

**Echoes**

The lightening flashed wickedly across the sky, thunder rattling everything around them. Nichols, Goren and Ross stood under the open hatch of the SUV, little protection from the rain pelting the ground.

"How do you want to do this?" Nichols asked, slipping a vest over his head.

"I go in alone," Goren said tightening the Velcro on his vest. He looked to Ross. "Alone. Let me talk to him. Maybe I can get him to release Eames."

"We don't know even if she's still alive," Ross argued.

"She is," Nichols said. "Dickson wants Goren to witness this. We're here now. Goren's here." He looked to Goren. "You only have one shot at this."

"One shot is better than nothing," Goren returned. Ross looked between his detectives.

"Fine," Ross resigned. He couldn't afford an argument and he didn't know how long Dickson's patience would stand. "Nichols and I will stay by the front door. I'll have two officers around the back." Ross stepped in front of Goren, gaining the man's full attention. "If I see _any _reason to go in, Detective…"

"Understood." The three finished securing their vests as Ross laid out plans for the other officers. They sprinted up the walk to the porch. Goren took a deep breath and wiped the water from his eyes as it dripped from his hair.

"Ready?" Nichols asked. Goren nodded and opened the door. He entered the farmhouse, gun drawn in front of him.

**0-0-0-0**

"Call him," Dickson ordered. Eames stayed quiet. "I said call him!" he hissed, gun pushed into Eames' throat.

"Bobby!" Her voice cracked as she called her partner's name.

Goren stopped short in the middle of the small kitchen when he heard Eames' voice. He didn't respond to her. Quietly, he walked through the living room to the staircase. She called again, confirming that she was upstairs. Carefully, Goren ascended to the second floor and cleared each room as he made his way through the hallway.

The door at the end of the hall was closed, a small soft light peeking from underneath. Goren stood to the side of the door, turning the handle and slowly pushing it open. As he rounded the frame, he swept the room, his eyes connected to the sight of his gun. He found Dickson and Eames in the far corner, Dickson's gun pointed at Eames' head.

"Long time, no see, Detective Goren. Put you gun down."

"Dickson, you don't want to do this." Goren lowered his gun to his side.

"I don't want to do this?" He laughed loudly. "I've been planning this for twelve years, Goren." He winked. "I'm pretty sure I want to do this." Dickson stood taking a few steps away from Eames. "You stalked my family, hunted them like they were animals. Turnabout is fair play, is it not?" Dickson raised his arm and aimed the gun at Eames, never taking his eyes off Goren. "You took from me, I take from you." Goren's hand tightened around his own weapon.

"Dickson…Look, she isn't the one you're upset with. It's me. Me, right?" Goren took a step closer to Dickson. "Let her go. I'll stay. Let her go," he pleaded quietly.

"No. No, I don't think I will."

"You won't get out of here alive if you kill her."

"I'm no fool to think I will. After I kill your partner…I just want to see the look on your face, want to see you lose what matters the most to you." Dickson stepped closer to Eames. "Want to see you feel the pain."

"Put down the gun, Dickson!" Goren took another step, his gun now trained on Dickson. From the corner of his eye he could see Eames tuck her legs closer to her body and cover her head with her arms.

"No! I am due my revenge. You will not keep this from me." Dickson steadied his aim towards Eames, a wicked smile spreading across his face as he looked at her. "Say 'good-bye', Detective Goren."

Time froze as the sound of a single gunshot echoed through the farmhouse.


	11. Relieved Of Duty

**Law and Order: Criminal Intent **

**High Maintenance**

**Chapter 11**

**Relieved Of Duty**

Goren's hands shook as he lowered his gun and cautiously stepped forward. Dickson's body lay crumpled on the floor, a gunshot wound visible on his left temple. Goren frowned, repulsed by the smug smile still plastered on Dickson's face. He could hear shouting from the police officers now entering the farmhouse, but the voices were pushed to the back of his mind, silenced by the sight of his partner.

Eames' arms were limp, suspended by the wires around her wrists. Her legs were no longer tucked close to her body, rather curved lifelessly in front of her. Eames head hung between her elbows, face covered by bloodied hair. Goren took a deep breath, fighting back tears as he noticed the bullet hole in the wall next to her head. A decent amount of blood trickled from its small opening.

"Alex?" Goren hesitantly knelt in front of Eames and carefully pushed the blood-matted hair from her face. She moaned softly and turned her head in his direction. He noticed a long wound across her shoulder. It lined up perfectly with the hole in the wall. He released a grateful sigh.

"My shoulder," Eames whispered in a wince.

"It's okay. It's okay," he soothed. "It's just a flesh wound. The bullet didn't go through." He ran a finger under his eyes wiping his tears. "It didn't go through," he repeated, more for his sake than hers.

Ross and Nichols stepped through the doorway, holstering their weapons when they saw Dickson's body on the floor. Nichols moved to the middle of the room, assessing Eames' condition from a distance. Ross turned to one of the officers entering the room. "Get the medics in here now."

Eames opened her eyes, tear-stained and red, and met Goren's. He loosened the wires, carefully unraveling them from the places where they pinched and cut her skin. Her arms fell loosely across her lap.

"Bobby…" Eames mustered the last of her strength and wrapped her arms around Goren's shoulders. He held her tightly, taking care not to hurt her battered body. He kissed her forehead as she cried.

"It's all right." Goren ran his hand over the back of her head, trying to calm her as her body trembled in his arms.

"Wait." Nichols held up a hand, stopping the passing young medic. "Give them a minute. Take care of that guy first," he said, pointing to Dickson's body. The medic nodded, motioning his team to follow.

"We should get her to the hospital," Ross said pointedly, looking at Nichols.

"Yeah," he nodded in agreement. "Give them a minute. Partnership is a strong bond, Danny. You know that." Nichols regarded his former partner with a raised eyebrow. "If this was us, I'd be concerned for your well-being, too. Though, I wouldn't have kissed your forehead," he said, scrunching his face in feigned disgust.

"Don't you have something to do, Detective?"

"Yes, Sir." Nichols smiled and disappeared into the crowd of officers. Ross turned his attention back to Goren and Eames. He understood the unique relationship between partners. Having lost three of his own partners over the years, he knew all too well the angst and despair of such a situation. Though, he had a feeling the bond Goren and Eames shared was stronger and far more rooted than that of partners or friends. Ross waited as Dickson's body was removed, giving a second team of medics room to enter.

"Bobby," Ross said softly, placing a hand on Goren's shoulder. Goren looked up. "It's time." Goren nodded. He gently pushed Eames back, leaning her against the wall. Ross stepped back as Goren whispered in Eames' ear, carefully wrapping his fingers around hers before rising. The medics gathered around her as Ross led his detective from the farmhouse back to the SUV.

Goren leaned against the vehicle watching as the medics emerged from the house, Eames secured to the stretcher. Nichols walked alongside, gently holding her hand. He smiled softly when he let go, allowing the medics to move her into the ambulance. Nichols closed the doors, tapped on the back, and watched it drive away.

"I'll wrap everything up here," Nichols said, joining Goren against the SUV. "I can hitch a ride back to 1PP." Nichols put his hand on Goren's shoulder. "She's going to be all right. You got to her in time." He shook Goren's hand and returned to the farmhouse.

**0-0-0-0**

Goren paced the length of the waiting room, restless for word on Eames' condition. Ross stood by the chairs, phone to his ear as he watched Goren's movement.

"All right, thank you." Ross closed the phone. "That was Nichols. Dickson's lawyer paid Millward a visit. Cousin Vinnie shot Millward then turned the gun on himself." He titled his head to one side. "You're going to wear a hole in the carpet." Goren offered Ross a small apologetic smile.

"Captain Ross? Detective Goren?" Ross turned towards the door.

"How is my detective doing, Doctor?" Ross asked.

"She took quite a beating, but she'll be fine. We stitched up the wound on her shoulder and a few other cuts, the ones around her wrists being the worst. Fortunately, they were not deep enough to cause significant blood loss. There is some bruising I would like to keep an eye on, but most of it looks worse than it is."

"How long will she be here?"

"I'd like to keep her overnight for observation. She can go home tomorrow afternoon. I've dealt with Detective Eames before. I know I won't be able to keep her here longer than that. She'll tear the room apart," the doctor laughed. "She will need someone around for the next few days, though. The pain medication mixed with her overall physical state…She shouldn't be alone." Ross nodded and looked at Goren.

"You are officially relieved of duty for the next week, Detective Goren."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Detective, you are welcome to see her." Goren followed the doctor into the hallway. Ross hung back, dialing a number he never enjoyed dialing. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, Captain Danny Ross for Chief Moran."

**0-0-0-0**

Though he had been assured of a quick recovery for Eames, Goren still felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he approached her bed. She looked much better, the dried blood having been washed away, but she would be dealing with many physical and emotional scars that could not be as easily removed. He stopped at her side, tilting his head as he met her eyes.

"Hey," he whispered, lightly touching her arm.

"Hey," she returned. "You look like shit," she smiled softly.

"Yeah, well, I've had a rough day, Eames," he teased. "I can't be the good-looking partner all of the time."

"Enjoy it while you can, Goren." She closed her eyes and stilled a laugh. "When I'm able to move, I'm going to kick your ass for that."

"You'll have to catch me first," he smiled, happy to see the smart-ass side of his partner alive and well. He knew the whole ordeal would have an effect on her well-being, but this portion of her personality was a crucial coping mechanism. Goren grabbed a chair, dragging it to the side of her bed.

"I'm so sorry, Alex," he said, sitting on the edge of the chair. He took her hand in both of his and moved it to his mouth, brushing a soft kiss along her fingers. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, studying the white gauze wrapped around her wrist. He could only imagine the look of the sutures that were hidden underneath.

"It's not your fault, Bobby," she said turning her head towards him. "It was twelve years ago. You couldn't have…have known." Eames winced and adjusted her body. "Just try not piss off anyone else."

"No promises, but I will do my best." Goren reached up and brushed Eames's hair from her forehead. He repeated the motion several times, though no longer necessary. "I…uh, last night. I didn't mean to…" His voice drifted off.

"It's all right, Bobby. I know you didn't mean anything by it." Eames closed her eyes. "Geez, Bobby. How many times have we fought before?"

"Quite a few times," he answered.

"Sometimes that's what I need to let out the steam. You know that."

"I do," he said slowly. "I've never been…never touched you like that before." He smiled slightly returning his attention to her hand. "Not the way I would want…that to happen," he whispered. Goren cleared his throat and replaced her hand by her side. "Guess who gets to take care of you when you're out of this place?" he laughed, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. "You better not be a pain in the ass. I'll withhold the meds," he threatened. Eames opened her eyes to him and smiled weakly, the best she could offer under the medication now taking full effect.

"Don't worry, Bobby. I'm a low maintenance gal." Goren shook his head slowly. As he thought them over, the last three days seemed like two weeks' worth of time. Eames' detachment towards the end of the Waterton case, her increasing anxiety during the beginning of the Hales' investigation all seemed so long ago. Their fight…Screaming and swearing in the parking garage of 1PP, the same in the middle of her front yard, in her apartment. Never, though, had she tried to take a swing at him; she fought with words.

Goren suffered through a nine-hour heart attack while searching for his partner. Eames had no idea how fully lodged in his throat his heart had been, how uncontrollable his mind had become, fighting to concentrate when all he could picture were the horrible 'what ifs'. She didn't know how empty his life would be if she wasn't around to be a part of it.

He played out the likely scenario for the following days. Eames would be sore and tired, and angry over the abduction. She would grow restless, being forced to stay in the apartment by the strength of the pain meds. She would yell and throw things to cope. She would remember that she threatened Goren with an ass-kicking and would no doubt look to make good on her word.

Standing, Goren leaned over Eames, hands on the bed to either side of her shoulders. She was almost out for the count. The medication, nearing the end of the battle, was winning. He smiled, knowing Eames would not have to strength to stop him and since she already planned on kicking his ass, he planned on making it worth his while.

"What?" she slurred.

"Low maintenance, my ass." He bent down kissing her lips softly.

a/n: Thank you to everyone who has read this story. A super thank you to everyone who has left a review. Your responses were so much more than I expected, being a first-time fic-er. I enjoy reading fanfiction and hope that I have left a good spark on this site. Thank you to all who write for LOCI, keeping these wonderful characters alive in all our hearts! ~ Autumn


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